


bury the hatchet (or bury your friend right now)

by magnificentbirb



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Tagging Graphic Violence Just In Case, Vampire Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22342072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnificentbirb/pseuds/magnificentbirb
Summary: To be fair, Seonghwa sees Choi San first.In which a pair of vampires and a pair of vampire hunters have a careful, unspoken truce, and then things... escalate.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 72
Kudos: 868





	bury the hatchet (or bury your friend right now)

**Author's Note:**

> listen,,,,,, park seonghwa was born to be in a vampire au, okay? and the rest of them came along for the ride.
> 
> i am weak.
> 
> also this was supposed to be just drabbles... oops.
> 
> *
> 
> title from "bury a friend" by billie eilish because i basically listened to that entire album on repeat while writing this.

*

_What do you want from me? Why don't you run from me?  
What are you wondering? What do you know?  
Why aren't you scared of me? Why do you care for me?  
When we all fall asleep, where do we go?_

*

To be fair, Seonghwa sees Choi San first.

“There’s a new hunter in town,” Seonghwa says, wiping blood from the corner of his lips with a delicate finger. He just returned from a hunt, and his usually porcelain skin is flushed with new blood.

“Did you kill him already?” Wooyoung asks, not even looking up from his phone screen.

“No,” Seonghwa says, sounding thoughtful. “He looks… interesting.”

Wooyoung slants him a glance from across their shared living room. “You mean he’s hot?”

“I’d call him beautiful,” Seonghwa says. “And dangerous. I believe he’s training under Hongjoong.”

That gets Wooyoung’s attention; he sits up a bit straighter on the couch, letting his phone screen go dark.

“Hongjoong’s back?” he says.

Seonghwa hums, slipping out of his leather jacket. “Seems like it. So keep an eye out, okay? Don’t do anything stupid. We don’t want to give him any reasons to target us.”

“But he won’t, right?” Wooyoung asks. “Because you two are all…” He flaps a hand vaguely in Seonghwa’s direction. “... You know.”

Seonghwa narrows his eyes at him. “We are what, exactly?”

“You’re all… punch-punch-kiss-kiss,” Wooyoung says. “Like, he’s never killed you, even though he’s had the chance, and you’ve never killed him, even though there was that one time he straight up passed out in front of you, and you dropped him off at the goddamn _hospital_ instead of finishing him off like you would have done with any other hunter.” Wooyoung shrugs. “Shit like that.”

Seonghwa purses his lips. “It would’ve been unsporting to just kill him while he was ill and unable to defend himself.”

“That’s what I mean,” Wooyoung says. “Who cares if it’s unsporting? He’s a hunter, he wants us dead, and yet you refuse to kill him, and he’s never killed you.” Wooyoung spreads his hands in a helpless gesture. “I’m just saying it’s a thing.”

“Hm.” Seonghwa steps over to the couch, coming up behind Wooyoung. Wooyoung doesn’t normally find his sire to be very intimidating—he’s too soft for that, usually, more fond of cuddles than any kind of punishment—but he can’t help but flinch a bit as Seonghwa reaches out a hand and slides his fingers gently into Wooyoung’s hair, ruffling the light strands before letting his hand trail down to rest against the nape of Wooyoung’s neck. Seonghwa leans down, so that his lips are just beside Wooyoung’s ear. “Don’t pretend that I’m the only one who develops brief fascinations with mortals, my dear,” he says. “I’ll be interested to see how you react to Hongjoong’s new apprentice. His name is Choi San, and he’s just your type.” He turns slightly, pressing a kiss to Wooyoung’s temple. “I’m going to take a shower.” 

And then he rises, briefly scritching his fingernails against Wooyoung’s skin, and slips silently out of the room and up the stairs.

Wooyoung lets out a breath and slumps back down on the couch.

_Choi San._

Wooyoung has dallied with mortals before, but never a hunter, and especially not one that Seonghwa himself—princely, stupidly handsome Park Seonghwa—has declared “beautiful.”

Maybe Wooyoung should hunt a bit earlier than usual, this week… and maybe he should do so in Kim Hongjoong’s territory.

*

Seonghwa is right: Choi San _is_ beautiful.

Even as he pins the hunter to a wall, one hand locked around San’s throat, Wooyoung can’t help but be distracted by San’s strong jawline and high cheekbones and the way his dark hair falls into his eyes. His lips are pink and pretty even as they snarl at Wooyoung, and Wooyoung likes that San never appears afraid, even when Wooyoung tightens his grip and San chokes, his breath cut off. Instead, San gets _angry_ , eyes flashing and left leg lashing out, catching Wooyoung with a solid kick to the gut that actually makes him wince a little.

“Will you _hold still?_ ” Wooyoung growls through gritted teeth. San just scowls at him, his hands locked around Wooyoung’s wrist, scrabbling to draw blood, to get Wooyoung to loosen his grip. San’s beautiful face is starting to turn red from lack of air, and Wooyoung would really like for him to pass out soon, because he honestly doesn’t want to kill him ( _Seonghwa would probably disapprove of that, for one thing, since killing Hongjoong’s new apprentice wouldn’t exactly endear them to the hunter_ ), but he does want to go home.

San starts fumbling for something in his coat pocket, and Wooyoung snatches San’s wrist, stopping him just as San’s fingers close around the hilt of a nasty-looking knife.

“Stop that,” Wooyoung snaps, shaking San slightly by the neck. “I didn’t even attack you. I haven’t even fed yet!”

“Yet,” San croaks, still rapidly turning redder, and Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

“What, you want me to starve?”

“I-Ideally.” San squeezes his eyes closed, and Wooyoung can feel his throat working beneath his hand, trying desperately to draw in a breath. The hand around Wooyoung’s wrist goes limp and heavy, falling to San’s side, and Wooyoung can tell that he’s finally fading.

It’s oddly a bit disappointing. San caught him off guard so easily, even got a few good hits in before Wooyoung overpowered him. There’s a sluggishly bleeding wound in Wooyoung’s side that’s taking a while to heal and still smarts ( _like Wooyoung said, he hasn’t even eaten yet, so his healing is slower than usual, but at least the blade wasn’t silver_ ), a product of San’s _other_ nasty knife, already on the ground at San’s feet. Wooyoung isn’t used to hunters getting the jump on him. This was actually kind of fun.

But now San is starting to go slack, his struggles growing weaker as his body runs out of oxygen, and Wooyoung feels a strange emotion twist in his belly. He watches San’s pretty face, watches as his head starts to loll and his eyelids flicker.

Wooyoung could kill him so easily right now. He could tighten his grip on San’s throat, snapping his neck. He could lean in and tear into San’s graceful throat, bleeding him dry. Humans are so delicate; he could do any number of terrible things and barely break a sweat. He has the hunter entirely in his power, and as much as that usually brings him joy, right now he feels a bit sick.

So he lets San go.

The hunter slumps to the ground, his legs giving out beneath him. He drags in a painfully ragged breath and immediately starts coughing. His face is still red, and the skin around his throat is angry and blotchy and will definitely bruise, but he’s already groping for his knives, and that weirdly makes Wooyoung feel better.

“Go home,” Wooyoung says quietly, and somehow he doesn’t sound angry at all; his voice is weirdly small. It’s strange enough that San’s brow furrows, and he glances up at Wooyoung in confusion, his pretty pink lips parted and panting, dark eyes glittering.

Something twists low in Wooyoung’s stomach at that expression, and he flees the abandoned street before San can properly recover, but he can’t shake that image from his mind: Choi San looking up at him, flushed and breathing hard and _so fucking beautiful_.

Wooyoung hates it when Seonghwa is right.

*

“Your child almost killed my apprentice.”

Seonghwa doesn’t even look up from his drink. The bar is empty enough that he knows Hongjoong is addressing him, and Seonghwa wants to make him squirm.

“That’s not what I heard,” Seonghwa says smoothly, lifting the wine to his lips. He doesn’t _need_ wine, of course, but it’s nice to indulge every once in a while, and he knows that it unsettles Hongjoong, who only ever wants to see him as a blood-drinking monster.

“Oh?” Hongjoong crosses his arms, hips cocking to the side; Seonghwa sees it from the corner of his eye. “And you trust that your child would tell the full story?”

Seonghwa takes another long sip of wine, letting Hongjoong stew for a few seconds.

“Wooyoung,” he says, placing an emphasis on the name; he knows that Hongjoong knows Wooyoung’s name, but the hunter has this weird thing about not putting a name to those he doesn’t think should be alive. ( _He’s only said Seonghwa’s name once in four years, and then only in desperate circumstances._ ) “He says that San jumped him from an alleyway. He had the knife wounds to prove it.” Seonghwa finally glances at Hongjoong from the corner of his eye, keeping his profile on display. He has a suspicion of what it does to Hongjoong, and he’s rewarded with Hongjoong swallowing quickly and licking his lips, a tiny tell, but a tell nonetheless.

“San might have jumped him first,” Hongjoong says, “but your child almost strangled him.”

“ _Almost_ being the key word there, I think.” Seonghwa traces a finger over the rim of his wine glass. “Your precious apprentice… he’s still alive?”

Hongjoong glares. “Yes.”

“Any lasting injuries?”

“... Some bruises.”

“Mm.” Seonghwa finally turns to face Hongjoong, resting his chin on the back of his hand. Hongjoong’s gotten a new piercing since the last time Seonghwa saw him, and his hair is light again, back from the vibrant red he dyed it before he left town for a few months. He looks fantastic, clad all in black and silver, but Seonghwa tries not to focus on that. “Bruises. How awful. My best wishes to him for a speedy recovery. Let me know if you’d like me to send flowers to his deathbed.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrow twitches, and Seonghwa just barely manages to resist a smirk.

“Look, just…” Hongjoong runs a hand through his hair, mussing it up. “Just keep your kid away from mine, okay? San’s good, but he’s still new, and he doesn’t… _know_ you guys.” Hongjoong meets Seonghwa’s eye, and for a moment Seonghwa sees real fear there; San’s close call clearly rattled him. Seonghwa feels a slight pang at that. He knows Hongjoong is protective of his own; it’s one of the traits they actually share. “I don’t want anything to happen to him,” Hongjoong continues, quietly, as though he’s admitting some great fault.

“I understand,” Seonghwa says, keeping his voice just as low. “I’ll talk to Wooyoung. We won’t seek him out, just as we don’t seek out you.”

Hongjoong nods, and then, after a moment of hesitation, mutters, “Thanks.”

Seonghwa finally allows himself to smile. “You’re welcome, Kim Hongjoong. Welcome back.”

*

_“Help me.”_

_Seonghwa gaped at Hongjoong, who stood on his doorstep in the pouring rain, in the middle of the night, with a limp and bloody man hanging over one shoulder._

_“Wha—” Seonghwa started._

_“Help me save him,” Hongjoong said, voice tight. “Please.” His voice cracked on that syllable, and he suddenly looked terribly broken, and that was enough for Seonghwa to step aside and let the soaking wet hunter and his unconscious burden inside._

_“I think he’s bleeding out,” Hongjoong said, hands shaking as he lowered the unconscious man to the ground, and Seonghwa finally recognized him as Hongjoong’s apprentice. His name was Yunho, Seonghwa remembered. “He’s bleeding and I can’t—I can’t bring him to the hospital, it’s all the way across town, it’ll take too long, do you have bandages, or—or—could you—”_

_“Hongjoong.” Seonghwa’s voice was sharp, but soft; he didn’t want to stress out the man any more than he already was. “Why did you bring him here?”_

_Hongjoong looked up at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes._

_“He’s dying,” he whispered. “He’s going to die, unless…”_

_Seonghwa closed his eyes briefly. “Unless?”_

_Hongjoong pressed his lips together, and blinked, and a drop of moisture slid down his cheek. Seonghwa chose to believe it was rain._

_“Unless… you can turn him.”_

_Seonghwa sighed and ran a weary hand through his hair._

_“It’s not a simple process, you know,” he said. “It’ll be painful for him. And we’ll be linked afterwards. And he’ll have to live with it.” Seonghwa met Hongjoong’s eyes. “Forever.”_

_Hongjoong’s lip trembled and he closed his eyes and leaned over Yunho’s motionless body. Yunho was already so pale. Seonghwa had seen too much death in his centuries of life to give himself any kind of fool’s hope: Yunho would never make it to a hospital. He was going to die in a puddle of blood and rainwater on Seonghwa’s entryway floor, and there was nothing Hongjoong could do to stop it._

_“Did he ever say anything about it?” Seonghwa asked quietly. “Before… this.”_

_Hongjoong shook his head, his hands clutching Yunho’s bloodstained jacket._

_“Do you think he’d want it?”_

_Hongjoong hesitated, and then lifted his shoulders in a weak shrug. “I think… he’d want another chance. And if he doesn’t, then…” He looked up at Seonghwa, his jaw suddenly set and determined. “I’ll deal with it. You don’t need to be involved.”_

_“He’ll be one of mine,” Seonghwa said wearily, kneeling gracefully beside Yunho. “I’ll be involved whether you two like it or not.” He pressed two fingers to the pulse point on Yunho’s throat; there was still a heartbeat, but it was weak and thready and fading fast. “You’re absolutely sure about this? There’s no taking it back, once it’s been done.”_

_“I’m sure,” Hongjoong said. His hands clenched in the fabric of Yunho’s jacket, and he met Seonghwa’s eyes, his own desperate. “Seonghwa, please. I can’t—I can’t lose him like this.”_

_If Seonghwa’s heart had been beating, it would have tripped as soon as Hongjoong said his name._

_“All right,” he said, trying not betray any emotion. He looked down at Yunho—poor, dying Yunho, who would soon be his third child. Seonghwa let out a gusty breath. “You sure you want to watch this?”_

_Hongjoong nodded once. “I’m not going anywhere until he wakes up again.”_

_“It could be hours, you know,” Seonghwa said. He rolled up his sleeve and carefully bit into the meat of his own wrist, puncturing the skin easily; dark blood, darker than any living blood should be, beaded from the wounds, and he caught Hongjoong staring as the first drop began its graceful arc across pale skin._

_“I know,” Hongjoong finally said. “I’m staying.”_

_Seonghwa hesitated only once more, forcing Hongjoong to meet his gaze, and it was only when he saw the resolve in those dark, tear-stained eyes that Seonghwa finally leaned in and let his own blood drip into Yunho’s pale, parted lips._

_And then they could do nothing but wait._

*

Wooyoung does a fantastic job of avoiding Hongjoong’s pretty apprentice, thank you very much, and when he finally sees him again, it’s not even his _fault_.

No, Wooyoung was just minding his own business, wandering the streets around the local college campus in search of some easy prey, when he heard a struggle coming from within a dark alleyway beside one of the less frequented ( _read: shady_ ) campus pubs. Curious, Wooyoung poked his head into the alleyway, and sure enough, there were Hongjoong and San, fighting off _four fucking vampires_ at once.

Wooyoung watched for as long as he could, but the hunters were clearly struggling, and the vampires looked like assholes, and Wooyoung knew Seonghwa would be mopey if anything happened to his human ( _who he has yet to admit is his human, but he can’t fool Wooyoung_ ), so of course Wooyoung had to step in.

Which is where he is now, fighting back to back with the beautiful and livid Choi San, who seemed unsurprised to see him and only gifted him with an exasperated sigh when Wooyoung heaved one of the other vampires away from San and clear down the alleyway.

“How old are you?” San asks; he barely sounds like he’s breathing hard, and the blades in his hand ( _silver now, Wooyoung realizes; he feels a bit sick in their presence_ ) are covered in dark gore and flashing dangerously, finding a target each time they swipe.

“Older than you,” Wooyoung says with a grin as he kicks one of the vampires in the chest, sending her staggering back into a wall so hard that the brick cracks.

“Whose side are you on, anyway?” she snaps, holding a hand to her chest.

“Guess,” Wooyoung retorts, and the female vampire barely rolls out of the way before Wooyoung’s fist lands right where her face was, brick crumbling beneath his smarting knuckles. ( _He’s strong, not invincible; Seonghwa likes to remind him of that._ ) 

“Why are you helping us?” San asks, barely glancing at Wooyoung before he’s forced to duck a wild tackle from a vampire; one of his knives comes up, silver blade lodging in the vampire’s side, and the vampire lurches away with a shriek.

“My sire likes your teacher,” Wooyoung says with a shrug. He steps firmly between San and the female vampire, baring his fangs, and the female vampire glowers at him before slinking away into the darkness, clearly having second thoughts about taking on these particular hunters.

“Your sire…” San’s brow furrows; it’s cute, Wooyoung thinks, and then he mentally slaps himself, because he’s supposed to be _avoiding_ San, not thinking he’s cute. “Seonghwa, right? Park Seonghwa?”

“Hongjoong’s mentioned him?” Wooyong asks, rounding on another of the vampires, this one a sickly looking male, already bleeding from multiple knife wounds and attempting to creep up on San’s briefly undefended back. Wooyoung automatically grabs the vampire by the neck, lifting him easily off the ground, and snarls at him, something hot and strangely protective burning in his chest. The sickly vampire flails, trying to escape; Wooyoung digs his fingernails into the vampire’s throat, easily breaking the skin, and tears out his trachea, making the vampire choke. 

“Y-yeah.” San watches him with wide eyes as the injured vampire drops to the ground, clutching at his ruined throat, and scrambles away, disappearing into the darkness at the far end of the alley.

“He’ll heal,” Wooyoung says, unsure what to make of San’s stare. “... Eventually.”

“San!” Hongjoong’s voice echoes down the alley, and both Wooyoung and San snap to attention to see Hongjoong pinned on the ground beneath one of the vampires. There’s a silver blade in the vampire’s chest, but that doesn’t seem to be slowing him down, and he’s trying his damnedest to sink his teeth into Hongjoong’s neck.

San sprints forward and latches onto the vampire’s back, and draws his knife smoothly across the vampire’s throat. The vampire rears back, letting out a terrible, gargling screech as cold, dark blood runs down his chest. He turns his head inhumanly fast, fangs flashing, and San cries out, making Wooyoung’s stomach twist.

“SAN!” Wooyoung yells, rushing forward just as the other vampire reaches back, hooks his fingers into San’s shirt, and heaves San over his shoulder to smack _hard_ into the concrete beside Hongjoong, stunning him. San gasps for breath, eyes wide, and that’s all Wooyoung sees before he’s on the vampire with the slit throat, ripping him off of Hongjoong and flinging him as far down the alleyway as he can. The last vampire left—the one San stabbed in the side—leans down beside the vampire with the slit throat, and the two of them struggle to their feet. Wooyoung turns to face them, crouching into a defensive pose between them and the two hunters. He lets his eyes flash, lets them see the golden hue that signifies his age, his strength, and bares his fangs. The two injured vampires hiss in return before scarpering, leaning on each other and leaving a trail of dark blood behind them.

“San,” Hongjoong says, sounding breathless, and Wooyoung spins to see Hongjoong kneeling beside his apprentice, pushing back San’s dark hair with one trembling hand. “You okay?”

San nods dazedly, still struggling to catch his breath after getting the wind knocked out of him.

“He got me a bit—fangs—” San says, lifting his right arm to show three bleeding lacerations on his forearm, and as soon as he does, Wooyoung is struck by the almost physical blow that is the _incredible_ scent of San’s blood.

He’s on his feet and yards away before he can even register moving, pressing his back against the wall of the pub.

Hongjoong’s brow is knit with confusion. “What’s wrong?” he asks, and he has to raise his voice slightly for Wooyoung to hear him.

Wooyoung has to swallow before he can respond; his mouth is watering, and his fangs feel thick in his mouth, starving.

“I’m just… hungry,” he lies. He’s not hungry, not really, or at least he _wasn’t_ before San started bleeding and Wooyoung ended up smelling the best thing he’s smelled in his too-long life. San’s blood smells _decadent_ , rich and warm and somehow more enticing than any human’s blood Wooyoung has ever tasted, and Wooyoung wants nothing more than to press his lips to the wounds on San’s arm and _drink_ , but he knows he can’t do that; Seonghwa would murder him, for one thing, and Hongjoong and San would _also_ murder him, for another.

“—Joong, venom…” San’s voice is soft and trails off, and Wooyoung can see even from a distance how glazed his eyes are; vampire venom works quickly, and San—slim and fit, barely any fat on him—seems to be hit hard.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Hongjoong says, petting San’s hair again. “You’ll be okay in a few minutes. Just let it wear off.” San’s head rolls to the side, and his eyes close, his expression blissful as the venom takes hold.

Wooyoung has to leave right now.

“Are you two good?” he asks, edging his way past the two hunters and towards the main road, trying his best to maintain as much distance as he can by keeping himself pressed against the pub wall. “Because I should, uh. I should go.”

“We’re good,” Hongjoong says, and then grudgingly adds, “Thanks for your help. Those vampires won’t be back, and San will be good as soon as the venom wears off.”

Wooyoung pauses at the mouth of the alleyway. “How do you know they won’t be back?”

Hongjoong’s smile is dark. “Don’t worry about it. Just hope that we never have to use these particular knives on you or your sire.”

Wooyoung feels a chill run down his spine, and with one more quick glance down at San ( _eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted, and why the hell does Wooyoung keep seeing him like this? It’s torture_ ), he vanishes into the night, eager to get home and away from certain tempting, confusing hunters.

*

_**Interlude** _

Hongjoong interrupts a hunter, once. A hunter stalking a certain familiar home, where a certain familiar vampire lives.

The horror that pools in Hongjoong’s gut when he sees the other hunter casing the house is… startling, to say the least. Hongjoong lets his mind dive briefly into what could have happened if he didn’t notice the new hunter. Images of Seonghwa with a silver dagger in his heart flash through his mind, and then Hongjoong considers a world without Park Seonghwa, a world without those sharp dark eyes, that peerless porcelain skin, that thick black hair, always so perfectly coiffed, always so inhumanly, irritatingly handsome. He considers a world without Seonghwa meeting his eye across the dark bars that Hongjoong only frequents because he knows that Seonghwa goes there ( _not that Hongjoong would ever admit that_ ). He considers a world without Seonghwa’s surprisingly soft laugh ( _rarely heard, but oh, when he hears it_ ), without Seonghwa’s beautiful lips curling into a smirk, without Seonghwa’s cool hand brushing against his skin.

Hongjoong considers this, and he hates it, so he steps in front of the new hunter.

“Hey,” he says. “You new here?”

He knows she is.

“Yeah.” She looks unsurprised to see him, can clearly tell his profession from a single glance, and that’s fine with Hongjoong; the less they need to talk, the better. “This your turf?” 

“It is,” Hongjoong says. He jerks his chin at Seonghwa’s house. “And that’s my mark. Has been for years.”

The hunter raises an eyebrow. “And it’s still alive?”

 _It._

Hongjoong narrows his eyes. “He’s useful. For now.”

The hunter lifts her chin in a slow nod, skeptical. “Mm-hm. Well, I can take a hint.” She gives him a lazy salute, silver-painted fingernails gleaming in the fading evening light. 

_Evening… that means Seonghwa will be awake soon_ , Hongjoong thinks, and he forces himself not to look back at the house; Seonghwa won’t be in danger anymore, he never even needs to know about this. 

“I’ll see you around, I’m sure,” the hunter says, and Hongjoong nods tightly, dread settling in his chest.

“Have a nice night,” he forces out through gritted teeth, and the hunter laughs at him as she saunters off, hands in her jacket pockets.

Hongjoong lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, and his hands unclench at his sides. He can feel pricks on his palms where his fingernails dug into his skin. He finally allows himself one quick glance at the house ( _still dark_ ) before he, too, takes his leave, trying hard not to think about why his heart is still racing from an emotion that feels far too much like terror.

*

The next time Wooyoung sees Choi San, it’s because San finds _him_.

“You never did tell me how old you are,” San says as he takes the stool beside Wooyoung at one of Seonghwa’s favorite bars. He waves down the bartender and orders a gin and tonic as Wooyoung stares at him, gaping like a fish.

“What are you doing here?” Wooyoung finally asks, once his brain is able to register that yes, this is Choi San sitting beside him, dark hair artfully tousled, clad in leather pants and a soft gray sweater, smelling like rose oil and warmth and something absolutely heavenly that Wooyoung tries hard not to think about because he’s sure it’s San’s blood, thrumming in his veins, and that is _not_ something Wooyoung should be smelling when he’s not even hungry.

San turns to him, eyes wide and guileless. “Having a drink. What else do you do at a bar?”

“Sure, but why _this_ bar?” Wooyoung asks. “And why this stool? There are plenty of other places to sit.”

San glances around at the mostly empty bar, then lifts his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “I don’t like drinking alone.”

Wooyoung gapes at him. “But… you know what I am,” he says.

“Of course I do.” San gets his drink and thanks the bartender with a smile, slipping some cash across the bartop, and Wooyoung is briefly dazzled by _dimples_ and _scrunched nose_ and _oh god he’s even more beautiful when he smiles_. “But you haven’t killed me yet, and Hongjoong seems to trust your sire, so.” San shrugs, turning a little smile on Wooyoung this time, _directly_ on him, and Wooyoung gets slightly light-headed.

He whips his head around to stare at the booze lined up behind the bar.

“I’m two-hundred and seventy-eight,” Wooyoung says suddenly, keeping his voice low so the bartender doesn’t hear him.

San is silent for a few seconds, during which time Wooyoung refuses to look at him, and then he says, “Well, damn.”

Wooyoung frowns. “What, that bad?”

“No, it’s just… much older than I expected.”

“I was turned when I was twenty,” Wooyoung says, tracing a finger through the condensation on his glass.

“Did you…” San breaks off, and then: “Did Seonghwa ask you beforehand?”

Wooyoung smiles slightly. “Sort of. I was dying of fever. I had no family left, no prospects. Seonghwa… he lived just outside my village, and I’d met him a few times before. I knew what he was. I dragged myself to his doorstep and begged him not to let me die, so…” Wooyoung splays his hands. “Ta-da.”

Wooyoung hears ice clink against glass; he glances over at San, and his mouth goes dry as he watches San tip his head back to take a swig of his drink, his gaze automatically drawn to San’s neck.

“Is he kind to you?” San asks quietly, setting down the glass with a quiet clink.

“He’s…” Wooyoung pauses, unsure of how honest to be, and then decides to hell with it, the hunter might as well know. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I haven’t once regretted asking him to turn me. He’s the best brother I could have asked for.”

San smiles into his drink, and he looks almost sad. 

“Is it weird that I’m glad to hear that?” San asks. He looks at Wooyoung, and Wooyoung feels trapped, somehow, by that dark gaze. “Hongjoong won’t kill him, and he won’t really tell me why, so it’s nice to know that Seonghwa is kind, at least. It means there’s less of a chance that Hongjoong will get hurt.”

“I don’t think Seonghwa would ever hurt him,” Wooyoung admits.

“What about you?” San’s voice is quiet. “Will you hurt him?” 

There’s an unspoken question there— _Will you hurt me?_ —and it rings in the silence. Wooyoung stares into the melted ice cubes at the bottom of his glass.

“No,” Wooyoung says after a few moments, just as quietly. “I don’t want to hurt either of you.”

San nods, and then he drains his drink.

The night escalates quickly after that, and it’s shockingly not long before Wooyoung finds himself basically carrying a drunken vampire hunter out of the bar.

“What if I wasn’t here?” Wooyoung grumbles, trying not to get distracted by the warm length of San pressed against his side, the slim waist beneath Wooyoung’s hand, the strong arm slung over Wooyoung’s shoulders. “What happens when you get sloshed and need to get home by yourself? You’re a fucking hunter—don’t you know that vampires will be gunning for you?”

“Wouldn’t do this by myself,” San says, and it’s shocking how little he slurs despite the fact that his gaze is hazy and his cheeks are flushed prettily and he can’t seem to stop smiling. “That’s why you’re here.” He clumsily pats Wooyoung’s cheek. “You’ll protect me.”

Wooyoung grumbles, but he knows it’s true; there’s no way in hell he will let anything happen to Choi San tonight, or potentially ever. 

And that’s strange, isn’t it? Wooyoung barely knows this human, but there’s something about him that Wooyoung finds absolutely intoxicating. He’s slightly terrified of him, but he also _wants_ him, in a way he hasn’t wanted anyone before, and with that want comes an unbelievable need to protect. Choi San is strong, of course he is, but even though he’s proven that he can get the upper hand on Wooyoung at least once, there’s still something about him that makes Wooyoung want to keep him safe. San is bright, and beautiful, and brave, and if Wooyoung believed in fate, then he’d think that Choi San becoming the apprentice of Kim Hongjoong, obsession of Wooyoung’s beloved sire, was probably fate doing its thing.

Wooyoung manages to coerce San’s address out of him, and he escorts the wobbly hunter all the way to the front door of his apartment building.

“I’m trusting that you can climb the stairs on your own,” he says, finally letting San go, but San automatically sways into his chest, smiling up at him with bleary eyes. Wooyoung freezes, and San cups his cheeks in warm, gentle hands.

“You’re really handsome, did you know that?” San says, and then he leans in and presses his lips to Wooyoung’s, and Wooyoung’s entire brain short circuits for a hot second before he manages to gather himself and grab San’s shoulders, pushing him back and away.

“You—you’re drunk,” he stammers. San just grins at him, and he’s so beautiful, and he smells _incredible_ , and Wooyoung has to march him right up to the front door, leave him there, and march down the steps on his own, putting as much space between them as he can.

“Go to bed, Choi San!” he calls from the sidewalk, and San laughs at him, a bright sound that Wooyoung would never have imagined hearing from him a mere few months ago. Wooyoung’s chest feels warm, and he grins back, waving San inside. 

“Good night, Jung Wooyoung!” San calls, unlocking the door with surprisingly deft fingers, and then he disappears inside, and Wooyoung is left staring at San’s front door, knowing that if his heart could beat, it would be racing out of his chest.

*

Seonghwa doesn’t remember how he got here.

He feels light, distant. He knows that’s not good, knows he’s injured ( _how the fuck did that hunter get the drop on him?_ ), knows he needs blood desperately or he’ll die ( _can he die?_ ), but he can’t move. He’s flat against the ground, his back is cold, damp with his own blood. It’s hard to move his arms, but he manages to lift his right hand, reaches for something he dropped, what did he drop? It’s something shining, it’s lit up on one side, glowing in the darkness, his fingers brush against cool metal and _oh, his phone_. 

He needs to call… someone… 

He sees a face in his mind, a beloved face, a face he’s seen every day for centuries, and his fingers stretch, trying to reach, trying to get to that face, but all he feels against his fingers is cold concrete and slowly spreading blood.

Footsteps. It’s dark now, when did he close his eyes? There’s a voice, a voice that isn’t his, it sounds loud, it sounds scared.

“ _Seonghwa!_ ” 

Seonghwa forces his eyes open, and it’s not the face Seonghwa was thinking of… it’s a different face, a newer face, pierced ears and delicate lips and wide, terrified eyes and _oh, it’s Hongjoong_.

Seonghwa tries to say Hongjoong’s name, or at least, he thinks he does, but it’s hard to tell when he can barely move his mouth and he can barely see through the gray mist encroaching on the edges of his vision. He thinks he makes a sound, something low in his throat, and then there are hands on his shoulders, pressing hard, and that voice again, screaming his name, telling him to hold on, to not close his eyes, but god, it’s so _hard_ , he’s so _cold_ , it would be so much easier… if he just… 

_Pain._

Seonghwa gasps, eyes snapping open, as something heavy presses down on the gaping hole in his stomach.

“That’s right,” Hongjoong says, his voice tight and wavering. His hands are covered in Seonghwa’s blood, and he’s pressing so hard on Seonghwa’s wound that Seonghwa starts to wonder whether Hongjoong really does hate him.

“St-stop—” Seonghwa curls a hand around Hongjoong’s wrist, trying to get him to lessen the pressure, but his grip is pathetically weak, and he isn’t even sure whether Hongjoong notices.

“I have to try to stop the bleeding,” Hongjoong says. “You’re—you can’t lose blood, right? Or you’ll—can you—can you die? Again?” 

“H-Hurts,” is all Seonghwa manages this time, and his head falls back again, thudding against the concrete.

“No.” Hongjoong’s voice is strained, tight, and Seonghwa hasn’t heard him like this in years, not since he appeared on Seonghwa’s front step with a dying apprentice, not since Yunho turned— “No, don’t—don’t pass out. I can help you, you can’t die, I can—”

It’s dark again, but Seonghwa hears a sharp inhale, and then the sound of a knife being unsheathed. Even in his hazy state, Seonghwa feels the dull itch of silver, and he knows he should move away from it, knows it could kill him, but he’s so _tired_ , and he’s so _cold_ , and— 

_Blood._

The first few drops are like heaven on his tongue. Seonghwa grabs the arm in front of his face and drags it to his lips, and his fangs puncture soft skin, and someone makes a soft pained noise, but that’s not important right now, what’s important is _blood_ , sweet, fresh, hot against his tongue, and it clears away the cold, the pain, the exhaustion, and he feels _strong_ again, like he could snap the arm in his grip with little to no effort, but he doesn’t, he just drinks, deeply and quickly, dragging in as much blood as he can, and the world fades away for long, glorious minutes, as blood fills his veins, making him feel _alive_.

Something heavy collapses onto his chest, trembling against him, and Seonghwa smells the familiar scent of leather and silver and _Hongjoong_ , and his stomach swoops in horror. It takes everything he has to wrench his mouth away from Hongjoong’s arm, but he manages to break free with a gasp, his lips stained red, messier than he has been in years.

Dread a heavy weight in his chest, Seonghwa glances down at Hongjoong, slumped against his chest, his face hidden against Seonghwa’s bloody coat. Hesitantly, Seonghwa settles a hand against Hongjoong’s light hair; his fingers leave blood behind.

“Hongjoong?” he says, quietly.

Hongjoong inhales shakily and nods against Seonghwa’s chest. His right arm, still leaking blood, hangs limply at his side.

“Are you—are you all right?” Seonghwa asks; he can still smell the tantalizing scent of Hongjoong’s blood, but he ignores it, too concerned for the human sprawled on top of him. “I’m sorry, the venom—did I take too much? Are you—?”

“You’re alive.” Hongjoong’s voice is muffled.

Seonghwa blinks. “I… yes. I suppose I am, in a sense.”

Hongjoong shudders, bizarrely curling _closer_ to Seonghwa, his face still hidden, his left hand curled tightly into the bloodstained fabric of Seonghwa’s shirt.

“Your wound?” he asks.

Seonghwa shifts Hongjoong slightly, glancing down at his own abdomen, and is unsurprised to see flesh knitting slowly back together through the large slice in his shirtfront.

“Healing,” he says, and although he’s definitely stronger than he was, he still feels a bit dazed, because _what the hell just happened?_ “Hongjoong, are you—?” 

“I’m a bit woozy, but I’ll be fine,” Hongjoong says. “The venom will wear off soon, and you didn’t… you didn’t take too much.” He pauses, fingers clenching. “I knew you wouldn’t.”

Seonghwa stares up at the dark sky, slowly putting things together. He vaguely remembers a female hunter, leaping at him from the shadows; the flash of a silver knife; searing pain in his gut as he was left to slowly bleed out; and then… 

“You saved my life,” he says eventually. 

Kim Hongjoong, veteran vampire hunter, _saved his life._

Carefully, tentatively, Seonghwa lifts his arms and wraps them around Hongjoong, cradling him gently against his chest. Hongjoong doesn’t move, keeps his face buried against Seonghwa’s chest. 

“Why?” Seonghwa asks, because that seems important, right? He knows that they’ve had a truce for years now, and whatever hatred was first there when Hongjoong moved to this city has fizzled into something calmer and almost familiar now, but Seonghwa never would have guessed that Hongjoong would risk his own blood, his own _life_ , to save him. Something about it doesn’t add up… at least, not yet.

Hongjoong slips his arms beneath Seonghwa’s back. His hands must be in the pool of Seonghwa’s blood now, but he doesn’t seem bothered. He squeezes Seonghwa close, taking in a tremulous breath, and then admits:

“I don’t know.”

*

Wooyoung has San’s phone number now, and he stares at it beneath his blankets as night turns to dawn. He can already feel weariness clinging to his bones, creeping up on him like the sun over the horizon, but he can’t sleep yet.

Something happened with Seonghwa. Wooyoung noticed the bloodstained clothes, noticed the careful way he held himself, like he was healing slowly. And he noticed the careful way Seonghwa didn’t mention Hongjoong, even though Wooyoung could smell the hunter all over Seonghwa.

Wooyoung scowls at his glowing phone screen. San has to know… 

_hey it’s wooyoung_ , he types, and sends the message before he can change his mind. This is probably awful timing, because it’s the ass-crack of dawn, and most normal humans probably won’t even be awake, so San probably won’t see the message, anyway, and by that time it’ll be daylight out, and Wooyoung will have passed out, so— 

Wooyoung’s phone vibrates.

_what’s up wooyoung_

Wooyoung stares at the message, eyes wide. He smiles a little, and types again.

_what are you doing awake_

A few seconds, and then: _just got in from patrol_

Followed almost immediately by: _shouldn’t you be sleeping soon?_

 _yeah_ , Wooyoung sends, _but i wanted to ask you something. has hongjoong seemed weird for the past few days?_

Another moment of silence, but Wooyoung can see San typing. 

_… yeah_ , comes San’s response. _he’s been quiet, which is super weird for him. do you know something? is seonghwa okay?_

Wooyoung responds: _i think something happened between them. seonghwa seems hurt. is hongjoong okay?_

San, a few seconds later: _his arm is bandaged… i assumed he just cut himself somehow, but maybe something else happened?_

San types some more, and then sends, _would seonghwa ever… drink from him?_

Wooyoung stares at that message, and then at the fuzzy darkness of the blankets pulled over his head. _Would_ Seonghwa ever feed from Hongjoong? It didn’t seem likely, not after they’ve had their weird truce for so long, but if Seonghwa were hurt, and needed blood, then maybe… 

“Shit,” Wooyoung mutters, and then sends San, _maybe if seonghwa got really hurt, but if he really needed blood, he’d barely know who he is, let alone who he was feeding from_

A few moments of silence, and then, from San: _shit_

 _should we talk to them about it?_ Wooyoung asks.

He watches as San types, and then: _i don’t know yet. give me a day or so to feel out hongjoong-hyung a bit more_

Wooyoung agrees to that, and is about to put his phone down and give into the exhaustion dragging at his limbs when his phone vibrates again, twice in quick succession. Grumbling slightly, he rolls over to grab it, and freezes when he sees the messages on his lock screen.

Choi San: _does it hurt, when you feed from us_  
Choi San: _like… would you hurt me if you… you know_

Wooyoung lets out a shaky breath and squeezes his eyes shut. San can’t be asking about that, right? It’s… it’s too much. It’s too similar to what Wooyoung wants, what he hasn’t let himself consider any further than in fevered dreams ever since that day San got injured and Wooyoung smelled his ridiculously enticing blood. He tells himself, desperately, that San is only asking to make sure that Hongjoong is okay, to make sure he’ll be fine even after Seonghwa fed from him, but when Wooyoung opens his eyes again and reads the messages again, he stares at that second message for long enough that his eyes start to blur.

_would you hurt me…_

Taking a deep breath to steal himself, Wooyoung unlocks his phone and starts typing his response.

 _it depends_ , he sends first, and then, soon after, _the venom helps—it kind of numbs you, takes away the pain, but also takes away some of your awareness, as you’ve seen for yourself_

He hesitates, then continues: _most of us feed that way. that’s how seonghwa feeds, how he taught me and my siblings to feed. as little pain as possible, and usually with the human still alive at the end_

Another moment of hesitation, and San isn’t typing, probably waiting for Wooyoung to finish, but for some reason that makes Wooyoung nervous. 

_other vampires, though… some of them like the pain. they’ll lessen the venom and drain too much and… yeah_

He quickly adds, just to be sure, _but not us. if i… if you let me feed from you, i would never hurt you._

Wooyoung watches the screen, waiting, his nerves on a razor’s edge, and then, finally, San is typing.

San types for a while, then pauses, and then types again. Wooyoung thinks he might explode, despite the way his eyelids keep trying to slide closed as he stares at his phone screen.

Finally, the phone vibrates in his hand, and he reads San’s messages with his silent heart in his throat:

_i think i knew that_

__

__

_thank you, wooyoung_

_sleep well_

*

Wooyoung hasn’t felt pure, nerve-wracking panic very often in his long life.

There was once, more than a century ago, when Seonghwa stepped in front of a hunter’s silver bolt for him and almost died in Wooyoung’s arms. And there was the time when Yeosang, Seonghwa’s first child and Wooyoung’s favorite brother, almost died of starvation after being captured by scientists back in the mid-twenties. ( _He left for Europe soon after that, and still sends letters every month, except for November, which he spends entirely with Wooyoung every year._ ) 

But he feels panic now—bone-deep and paralyzing—when he sees Choi San pinned to the wall of a dark alleyway, a burly vampire bent over him, face buried in San’s neck. San’s twin silver daggers glint on the ground of the alleyway, one flung almost halfway down, the other bent near in half and dark with blood. San himself is rapidly turning pale, his eyes closed, his chest fluttering with weak, painful breaths. The vampire holds him in place with one huge arm pressed against his chest, pinning his arms, and the vampire’s other hand is tangled in San’s dark hair, yanking his head to the side at a painful angle, exposing his neck.

Wooyoung is frozen and horrified for a moment, unable to believe what he’s seeing, but then rage burns white-hot in his veins and he leaps forward, eyes flashing gold, and digs his fingers into the back of the vampire’s meaty throat, curling his fingers until nails break skin and he hooks his hand into muscle, clamping down hard.

The vampire breaks away from San’s throat with a scream, and Wooyoung is briefly overwhelmed by the heady, intoxicating scent of San’s blood, but then he sees how limp San is against the wall, the boneless way his head lolls against his shoulders, and fury replaces hunger.

Wooyoung rips the vampire away from San, his breath skittering as San collapses to the ground, and then he curls his fingers even deeper into the vampire’s neck, until he touches bone, and _tugs_. The vampire shrieks as its spinal cord fractures, brutally detached from the base of its skull, and Wooyoung lets it fall into a pathetic heap on the ground. Snarling, Wooyoung snags one of San’s silver daggers from the concrete, and plunges the blade deep into the vampire’s heart, making it choke on its dying breath.

He leaves it there, then, broken and bleeding with silver embedded in its flesh like poison, and it’s only as Wooyoung steps away that he realizes his hands are shaking. He tries to wipe some of the gore off, smearing blood on his jeans in an attempt to make himself clean.

“San,” he breathes, falling to his knees beside the hunter. Carefully, he reaches out a shaking hand to feel for a pulse below San’s jaw. His fingers slip in the fresh, warm blood on San’s skin, and if he weren’t so concerned that San might not open his eyes again, he could go insane with the need to drink.

“San, please,” he says, because there’s a pulse there, but San hasn’t moved, and Wooyoung realizes suddenly that he is _terrified_. “San, it’s me,” he says, his voice shaking. “It’s Wooyoung. Open your eyes, _please_.” 

San’s brow furrows slightly, and he makes a weak noise deep in his throat, and Wooyoung almost bursts into tears, he’s so relieved.

“That’s it, come on,” he says, gently patting San’s cheek. “Look at me. Can you do that for me?”

San scrunches his face up, then forces his eyes open, and Wooyoung has never been so glad to meet a bleary, pain-dazed gaze.

“Hey,” Wooyoung says. He cups San’s cheeks carefully in his hands, and he knows that he’s leaving blood on San’s skin, but he needs to _touch_ , he needs to comfort in whatever way he can. “You’re okay. It’s just me. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Wooyoung,” San says, raspy, and then, his brow creasing, “It hurts.”

“What hurts?” Wooyoung asks, stroking a gentle thumb over San’s skin. 

“All of it,” San murmurs, whatever that means, and his lip starts to tremble, and he lifts one hand to curl tightly around Wooyoung’s wrist. “Please… make it stop hurting.”

“I can’t—I can’t heal you, I—” And then Wooyoung realizes. He remembers their texts, remembers explaining about his venom, remembers promising San he’d never hurt him. He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly watering, his entire body vibrating with nerves. 

“Okay,” he whispers. “I can make it stop hurting. Do you… do you trust me?”

San nods tightly, his jaw clenched hard against the pain, and Wooyoung strokes his thumbs over San’s cheeks again, and then, on impulse, leans in to place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Trust me,” he breathes into San’s skin, and then he steels himself, and lowers his head slowly to the bloody, weeping wounds on San’s neck. He hesitates for a moment, every sense overwhelmed by the sweet scent of San’s blood, and then he carefully licks the blood staining San’s neck, making San shiver, and gingerly fastens his lips over the wounds on San’s neck, letting his own venom—numbing, cooling, taking the pain and turning it into something pleasurable—slip into the puncture wounds. He presses San close to his chest, wraps a careful arm around his back, so he can feel when his venom starts to take effect. San relaxes against him, letting out a soft sigh of relief, and Wooyoung clutches him tighter, flooded with sensation. His entire world narrows to San, soft and warm and pliant against him, blood tasting better, sweeter, more indulgent than any blood Wooyoung has ever tasted before, and he loses himself to it for a moment, possibly drinking too much, too fast, but then San makes a small noise against Wooyoung’s shoulder, and Wooyoung snaps back to himself, carefully pulling back from San’s neck, which is now cleaned of blood, the only evidence of the attack four small, red puncture marks in his skin.

“San?” Wooyoung pulls away, framing San’s face in his hands again. “Does that feel better?”

“Mm.” San nods limply, his eyes starting to drift closed again, but his lips curl into a weak smile, and Wooyoung breathes a sigh of relief.

“Let’s get you home,” Wooyoung says quietly.

Wooyoung, after a moment of debate, carefully retrieves both silver daggers, wraps them in San’s coat, and puts them in San’s lap, then bundles San carefully into his arms. He debates for a moment just taking San back to his apartment, but as San curls closer to Wooyoung, resting his head on Wooyoung’s shoulder, Wooyoung realizes with a painful twist that he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that San was all by himself in a lonely apartment fresh after a vampire attack. 

So instead, he turns his feet towards the house he shares with Seonghwa.

Surely Seonghwa will understand.

*

San sleeps for hours.

Wooyoung watches him until dawn from the chair across the room, trying to put as much space between them as he can. San is lying on his back on Wooyoung’s bed, half-covered in one of Wooyoung’s blankets, his hair mussed and lips parted and a small white bandage on the side of his neck. Wooyoung watches him, his right knee bouncing, gnawing at his lip and trying not to dwell on that bandage, on the wounds underneath, on what could have happened if Wooyoung hadn’t walked past that alleyway at that exact moment. Instead, he focuses on the gentle rise and fall of San’s chest and the warm, sweet smell of him, less overwhelming now that San isn’t actively bleeding, but heady nonetheless. 

Wooyoung watches San until the sun rises and exhaustion drags him down into a deep, dreamless sleep, and when he next wakes, the room is dark, the sun has set, and Wooyoung’s bed is empty.

Wooyoung lurches upright, panic bolting through his veins, but before he can even get to his feet, the door opens quietly, and San slips inside.

Wooyoung automatically lets out a gusty sigh of relief, and San jumps, turning to face Wooyoung with wide eyes. His cheeks are flushed and the hair around his face is slightly damp from washing.

“Oh,” he says, voice quiet. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, I just—” Wooyoung breaks off, shakes his head. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sore.” San smiles slightly, pushing the door closed behind him. “But alive.” He pauses, and then adds, “Thank you, by the way. I was pretty out of it when you showed up, so I didn’t get a chance to say it last night, and I’m sorry about that, but… yeah. Thank you.”

Wooyoung rubs weary hands over his face. “I’m just glad I was there. You could’ve—” Wooyoung’s voice breaks, horribly, embarrassingly; he clears his throat and continues, “You could’ve died. What happened?”

San shrugs, hugging his elbows. He looks small, suddenly, and Wooyoung has the bizarre urge to wrap him up in his arms and hide him away from the world.

“I fucked up,” San says quietly. “I thought I could take that vamp on my own, but he was… strong. He overpowered me, and once he got his fangs in me, I just—” San shakes his head, his eyes briefly squeezing shut. “I couldn’t fight him off.” 

Wooyoung stares at him for a moment, his chest tight, and then he gets to his feet and makes his careful way across the room, trying not to startle San, but suddenly needing to be close.

San watches his approach, and while his beautiful face betrays nothing, he looks relaxed; he doesn’t step back, as Wooyoung comes near, instead lifting his chin and meeting Wooyoung’s gaze with clear, curious eyes.

“I’m glad I was there,” Wooyoung says again, sotto voice, and San nods, letting out a shaky breath.

“Me too,” he breathes.

Before he can even really register moving, Wooyoung lifts a hand and threads his fingers gently through San’s dark hair before letting his palm rest against San’s cheek, thumb stroking soft, freshly scrubbed skin. He half expects San to question him, to finally pull away and be the smart one in the room, but instead, incredibly, San leans into the touch, letting his eyes slide shut.

“Do you still—?” Wooyoung has to stop and clear his throat, his mouth suddenly dry. “Do you think there’s still any of my venom in your system?”

San shakes his head softly, his cheek warm against Wooyoung’s skin. He opens his eyes, and though they’re dark with intent, his expression is entirely lucid, nowhere near the half-trance he was in last night.

“Not anymore,” he says softly. 

Careful fingers hook into the pocket of Wooyoung’s jeans, tugging him close, and Wooyoung quite nearly blacks out.

“O-okay, good,” he says, breathless. “And you—you feel okay? Like you can make good decisions, and—and you know what’s happening, and—?”

“Can I kiss you, Jung Wooyoung?” San asks, and if Wooyoung’s heart could beat, it would have simply burst.

“Please do,” he blurts, and San laughs lightly as he catches Wooyoung by the nape of the neck and reels him in. 

Wooyoung, as a rule, doesn’t really need to breathe, so it’s truly saying something when he automatically inhales as San, warm and wanting, presses against him and seals his lips in a kiss. With the inhale comes San’s intoxicating scent—warm skin and rose oil and a hint of eucalyptus from Wooyoung’s own face wash, and beneath it all the essential essence of San, that aroma only vampires can catch, a low thrum of lifeblood and heat that is different for every human and that Wooyoung finds utterly irresistible in Choi San—and Wooyoung can’t help but moan into the kiss, curling his hands into San’s hair, still slightly damp. He feels San’s lips curl into a smile against his own, and Wooyoung presses deeper, opening San’s mouth on a sigh, letting one of his hands drift down to San’s narrow waist, tugging him closer.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Wooyoung asks against San’s lips, unwilling to pull any further away.

“I have no idea,” San breathes back, pausing to press his lips to Wooyoung’s again. “Hongjoong might murder me, if I don’t let him know I’m okay soon, and I have no idea how he’ll feel about me kissing a vampire—”

“He and Seonghwa are practically in love, anyway, it’ll be fine,” Wooyoung says in a rush before he kisses San again, cutting off San’s startled laugh, and honestly, if he had his way, he’d choose to do nothing else but kiss Choi San for the rest of time.

Wooyoung loses himself in San for a bit, breathing in his intoxicating scent, wrapping himself around his warmth, pressing gentle kisses against his lips, his cheeks, his jaw. When his lips brush San’s neck ( _the uninjured side, of course, because Wooyoung still feels a terrible lurch in his gut when he sees that bandage, and he’d like to not think about that right now, thank you very much_ ), San gasps and arches back, exposing pale skin and a thrumming pulse, and the sound goes straight to Wooyoung’s groin.

“Oh god,” he says, mostly into San’s neck. “You can’t do that to me, I’ll lose it.”

“That’s—that’s fine.” San sounds breathy; his fingers curl into the hair at the nape of Wooyoung’s neck, tugging lightly. “You can lose it. That’s why we’re doing this, right?”

“I promised I’d never hurt you and I mean it,” Wooyoung murmurs. He presses a kiss to San’s neck, and then another to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and then another to his collarbone, which is honestly just unfairly lovely and barely peaking out from the loose collar of his t-shirt, and when San lets out a tremulous breath, his arms tightening around Wooyoung, Wooyoung almost— _almost_ —blurts out three embarrassing words that he hasn’t thought about anyone in a very long time ( _not counting his kin, of course_ ), but instead he just says, “God, you’re beautiful,” and he’s about to truly show San just how beautiful he is when there’s a gentle knock on the door.

They both freeze.

“... Yeah?” Wooyoung calls out eventually, lifting his head from San’s skin.

“Oh good, you’re up.” Seonghwa’s voice is muffled through the door, but he sounds sleepy, like he always does right after he wakes up. “I wanted to let you know that there’s fruit and crackers and juice for San downstairs, whenever he’s ready to eat. He needs to replenish his fluids.”

Wooyoung can feel San shaking with silent laughter in his arms, and he can’t help but grin, squeezing San tight.

“Yes, mother,” Wooyoung responds, and he hears Seonghwa grumble before his footsteps retreat down the hall, presumably heading down to the kitchen.

“You know what, I think you’re right,” San says, smiling up at Wooyoung, eyes glittering and dimples on display. “Your brother is the best.”

*

Hongjoong is standing on Seonghwa’s doorstep again, only this time it’s not raining, and he’s not crying, and there’s no dying apprentice slung bloody over his shoulder. Instead, he looks anxious, his bottom lip between his teeth, arms crossed tightly across his chest, eyes on the ground.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Seonghwa responds, warily. He’s still in the vampire equivalent of morning mode, so his hair is a mess and he’s wearing sweatpants and an old white t-shirt, soft from years of washing, and he doesn’t think Hongjoong ( _or potentially any mortal, for that matter_ ) has ever seen him looking so casual. He feels exposed, strangely naked, with bare feet and a bare face.

But Hongjoong is staring at him now, after finally looking up from his shoes, and his eyes are slightly wide with something like wonder, but in a second it’s gone, replaced once again by nerves.

“How’re you healing?” Hongjoong asks, eyes flickering briefly to Seonghwa’s abdomen.

“Slowly, but well,” Seonghwa says, smiling slightly. “It took a few days, but I’m basically back to normal now.”

Hongjoong nods. “Good,” he says. “Good, I’m… I’m glad you’re okay.”

Seonghwa watches him for a moment, and then asks, softly, “Are _you_ okay?”

Hongjoong looks a bit surprised to be asked. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m actually here looking for San—he texted and said he was here, for some reason?”

“Ah.” Seonghwa winces slightly, glancing over his shoulder at the dark staircase. Upstairs has become tellingly quiet ever since Hongjoong rang the doorbell, and Seonghwa would bet all the blood in his body right now that Wooyoung and San are eavesdropping from somewhere just out of sight. “Yes, he’s here. Wooyoung helped him get out of a bit of a scrape last night and brought him back here to rest so he wouldn’t be alone.”

Hongjoong looks dismayed. “What kind of a scrape?” he asks.

“I think a vampire got the better of him the night before last,” Seonghwa says, carefully, trying not to alarm Hongjoong. “But Wooyoung got there quickly enough that only a little damage was done. San’s already gotten plenty of sleep and I made him drink some juice and eat, so he should be fine.”

“ _God_ ,” Hongjoong breaths, running a weary hand down his face. “Thank you, I just—is he upstairs? Can I see him?”

“Of course,” Seonghwa says, hoping secretly that the kids haven’t gotten too far ahead of themselves just yet. ( _He’s not an idiot, he knows what he interrupted._ ) He steps aside, motioning for Hongjoong to come in, and then calls upstairs, “Wooyoung! Bring San downstairs, please!”

There’s a shuffling sound from just out of sight at the top of the stairs, and then a squawked response of, “Okay!” 

Seonghwa turns back to Hongjoong with a sheepish smile, and is surprised to see Hongjoong watching him with a thoughtful expression.

“What?” Seonghwa asks, automatically trying to flatten his hair.

Hongjoong blinks and shakes his head as though startled.

“Nothing,” he says. “Sorry, I just…” He clears his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets. “So Sani and your ch—Wooyoung—seem to be pretty close now, don’t they?”

 _Wooyoung._

It’s the first time Hongjoong has referred to Wooyoung by his name, and Seonghwa smiles at him warmly, although there’s a flicker of unease in the back of his mind; something has changed, and Seonghwa isn’t quite sure just what, yet.

“I believe they are, yes.” Seonghwa leans against the wall near the door, glancing up the dark stairs. “I’m not entirely sure when it happened, but I don’t think it’ll be an issue.” He turns his gaze back to Hongjoong, and makes his voice firm when he continues, “Wooyoung would never hurt San. Just as I would never hurt either of you. You know that, right?”

Hongjoong nods absently, his eyes distant. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I know.”

They stand in awkward silence for a few moments, listening to muffled rustling and giggles from Wooyoung’s rooms upstairs, until Seonghwa finally rolls his eyes.

“ _Today_ , Wooyoung!” he hollers up the staircase, and gets a petulant, “OKAY” in return.

“I have a strange request,” Hongjoong says suddenly, his shoulders straightening and gaze abruptly clear, fixed on Seonghwa.

Seonghwa feels pinned by those sharp eyes; he frowns slightly, unease flickering even brighter in his mind.

“Okay…” he says.

“Would you like to get dinner with me sometime?” Hongjoong asks, and then immediately flushes and adds, “I mean… it doesn’t have to be dinner, since you can’t really, you know… eat. It could just be drinks, or a movie, or we could just—just go for a walk or something, or—”

“Kim Hongjoong, are you asking me out on a date?” Seonghwa says, his brain a bit blank, but he can feel his face already breaking into a stupid smile.

Hongjoong’s ears are beat red and it might be the cutest thing Seonghwa has ever seen.

“I—yeah,” Hongjoong says. He lifts his chin stubbornly, glaring at Seonghwa, who just keeps grinning at him. “Look, life is too short for me not to realize that it meant something when you almost died and my immediate reaction was to force feed you some of my own blood. So, fuck it. I don’t care that you’re a vampire, because you’re a fucking _good_ vampire, and I think I might even trust you, and you’re stupidly handsome, and stupidly kind, so just… do you want to go on a date with me or not?” 

“I do,” Seonghwa says quickly, before he can even really process what he’s saying, but he realizes once he’s said it and Hongjoong’s stubborn glare has cracked into a brilliant, beautiful smile that he means it.

This might be stupid. Hongjoong is still a vampire hunter, and Seonghwa can’t exactly stop being a vampire, and their charges are clearly having some kind of tryst of their own, but Seonghwa feels warm as Wooyoung and San come downstairs and Hongjoong tries to hide his shy smile, immediately turning to fuss over San, touching delicate fingers to the bandage on San’s throat and tugging him into a gruff, tight hug.

So yeah, it might be stupid.

But Seonghwa has lived a long life. 

And he thinks he deserves a bit of stupid.

*

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to come flail at me on twitter, if you like~
> 
> [main account](https://twitter.com/aintitnifty) | [writing account](https://twitter.com/magnificentbirb)
> 
> also, please praise [@cchaiart](https://twitter.com/cchaiart) for the [utterly fantastic commission](https://twitter.com/aintitnifty/status/1239701971046739973) she did for me of vampire!woo and hunter!san, i'm obsessed with it, it's perfect and i am super grateful!
> 
> you can find more stories in this au [here~](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715710)
> 
> ♡
> 
> also translated into russian [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/9021043) \- thank you, [ youllloveithere](https://ficbook.net/authors/367217)!
> 
> ALSO ALSO crescentblue on tumblr drew [woosan fighting in the alleyway](https://crescentblue.tumblr.com/post/627151932338929664/vampirehunter-woosan-scene-from-bury-the-hatchet) and it's amazing, please check it out, and THANK YOU SO MUCH ♡


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